Forever
by festeringlilies
Summary: FinnickAnnie. There is a strange boy on the ship.


Author's Note: I think my heart broke about twenty times while writing this. Enjoy! :)

Disclaimer: The _Hunger Games_ trilogy belongs to Suzanne Collins.

* * *

><p><strong>Forever<strong>

There is a strange boy on the ship, and for a moment all she can register is confusion at why it's _him_ standing up there next to the mast with her father and not _her_.

Her mother pulls her away from the edge of the dock then and quietly explains exactly why Daddy needs an extra helper, because Mommy needs Annie in the house now (and Annie can't help but notice Mommy's eyes trained on the bulge around her belly tenderly and feels just a little bit jealous), so could Annie please thank the neighbor boy on the ship for being so kind as to lend them a hand. But Annie doesn't quite understand this feeling of betrayal curdling in the pit of her stomach, and the boy on the ship is grinning cheekily at her as she approaches the ship, and it only makes her even angrier for no sensible reason at all.

So when the boy and his dancing green eyes offer his hand to her and introduce himself as Finnick Odair, she glowers at him instead of taking it.

Because it's _her_ spot there right next to her father on the ship she's known her entire life. And he is standing in it.

And it's then that she knows that she'll never forgive Finnick Odair for this. Not for as long as she lives.

.oOo.

The Cresta girl doesn't seem to like him very much, but he's never been known to let something like that bother him.

He comes over the dinner often (he eats what he catches because that's the only way they can pay him), so the glares she shoots at him over the table are commonplace enough. He's long since stopped trying to be friends with her – it's clear he's the last person she'd ever want to befriend – but he can't help feeling a tiny twinge of regret when he leaves every night, because he likes it when she smiles and her eyes light up and he can almost see the sunlight glinting off the waves and the ocean, and it feels so much like home. But the only person who can make her smile that way is her baby brother, six years her junior, so it seems pointless to even stick around past dinner to try and make her laugh.

After a while of this, though, he notices that she sometimes watches him over her shoulder when she thinks he isn't looking. It makes him smile in secret. Because when he catches her eye and she jumps and looks away, he sees her smiling, too.

.oOo.

He teaches her how to make hooks one day.

She hasn't been on a ship in ages, but when he drags her by the hand onto the deck with the sun in his hair and the salt on his skin, it feels just right. She is terrible at it (her hands are delicate and clumsy from years sheltered from the sea), but he is patient and sympathetic, and she doesn't understand why he won't just give up with her, why he seems determined to work with her until she gets it perfectly, but eventually she does, and she smiles at him, and he looks triumphant and thrilled and giddy all at the same time. And suddenly they're laughing and they're friends, and she doesn't realize it at first, but there comes a time when she can't even remember why she used to hate him so much, because he's like part of the family now.

Except he isn't. Because before she falls asleep every night, it's his face she can't stop thinking about.

.oOo.

She's standing somewhere in the crowd, he knows, but all he can process is the dull murmur that passes through the audience and the sight of his dull expression reflected in the Reaping Ball and the dull feeling in his limbs as he shakes the hand of the nameless person on the stage. Later, they tell him she was screaming.

He makes a promise. A promise to come back alive. To the only person whose smile matters to him, and he'd fight through a hundred Hunger Games just to see it again. And it's like going through hell and back a thousand times over, but he makes it, and oh, _oh_.

Annie.

Annie is there, and she is kissing him before he has a chance to take in the _everything_ in her beautiful green eyes, and his heart is spilling open right there on the spot, because it's okay, _it's okay_, he's back and everything is as it was before, only a million times better.

Until the Capitol calls.

Because, as he soon realizes, the only thing victors of the Hunger Games win is a lifetime of servitude.

.oOo.

He's been in the Capitol for weeks now, and she misses him terribly.

They've started to call him in so much more often lately. He tells her they're shooting photo sessions and propaganda reels, because it's _such an honor_ to have been a victor at only fourteen years old (the way he says it makes her laugh every time), but she hasn't seen anything on the television about him since his Victory Tour months ago, and when she went to the mayor's office to call the number he gave her, all she got was a hollow voice telling her that _the number you have dialed does not exist_. She's worried about him, and she's so scared that if he doesn't come back she'll forget the sound of his voice and the sight of his smile, and her brother has suddenly become the only person who can even hope to make her heart feel like it hasn't broken into a million pieces.

Every time Finnick comes back it feels like he's drifted farther and farther away. She checks the television every night to see his face, but he's never there.

Finnick would never, ever lie to her. Of that much she is certain.

So every time he leaves, all she does is wait for him to return.

.oOo.

She is on the television screen, and it's all he can do to keep himself from screaming.

_Not Annie_, he pleads silently. _Please, please, please not Annie._ Because while he's here in the Capitol, locked in luxury while he waits for his next lover to arrive, she's in District 4, and her name has just been called for the 70th Hunger Games.

He watches her pale, and he clenches his fists until his skin turns white, because somehow he knows it's been planned, everything's been planned, _he's been set up_, because there's no way in hell he would be anywhere but at her side if the Capitol hadn't called him in a month ago and refused to let him leave. Her lips are ashen as she walks up the stage and shakes hands with Mags, and he'd give anything to be there in Mags's place right now, because he knows they know he would do whatever it takes to make sure she makes it out of there alive, because _not Annie, please, please, please not Annie_, and _fuck, it's all my fault_ and _please, please, no, not Annie_.

In fact, his heart is so trained on Annie at that moment that he almost misses the name of the male tribute from District 4. But he doesn't, and he knows he'll remember this very second for the rest of his life, because it's then he knows for certain that the Capitol is determined to make one thing clear: _even victors of the Hunger Games can never, ever escape our grasp_.

Because on the stage that very second, Annie is shaking hands with her brother. The very one Finnick couldn't trade places with. The very one Annie would give her life for.

His heart is breaking.

Annie is as good as dead.

.oOo.

He's watching her from somewhere, whether it's the Capitol or District 4, and she's determined not to let him see her cry.

They've made it to the final ten tributes, she and her brother, and with every passing minute she knows the time draws nearer to when she's planned to take her own life. Life is a nightmare in the arena anyway, so it shouldn't be too difficult to find a way to die painlessly, but she's still worried and terrified and she's never felt so alone and _Finnick where are you I need you here with me_.

And then they're down to the final five, and as they sit there under the stars, she figures it's about time to say her final goodbyes. She's only just gotten to Finnick when it happens.

The boy from District 2 is right there, right in front of them both. Annie doesn't even get a chance to reach for her knife before the blade of a monstrous axe buries itself in the part of the tree trunk beside her. It takes her a second to realize that, miraculously, the axe hasn't touched her, that she is somehow astoundingly entirely unscathed.

Then something hits her foot. Blood splatters her face.

When she looks down, she is staring into the lifeless eyes of her brother's head.

.oOo.

She's there but she's not, and he doesn't understand.

He'd never thought she'd come back alive, but she does, and when she's running down the steps and into his arms there is a split second where he really does believe it, that it's real, that _everything is going to be all right_, _it's over Annie_, _I'm here_. But she feels so cold and her smile is so different and when he looks into her eyes he doesn't see the ocean anymore, he just sees an empty shell of what used to be the girl he loves. Her laugh is tinged with desperation and insanity, and there are times when she doesn't know who he is, when she screams wordlessly in her sleep until he frantically tries to wake her, when she is so haunted by her world of nightmares that she can't do anything but stare into nothingness with that hollow, hollow expression on her face, and every day by her side he feels pieces of himself shattering because every time he kisses her he is so afraid she might break. The Capitol still calls him in too often, and he tells her the truth one day. He isn't sure if she understands.

And then he's leaving again, but this time with Mags, and he doesn't get to say goodbye.

If he dies, his one regret will be that he'll never be able to make Annie understand how much he loves her.

.oOo.

He's gone, _where is he_, and the walls are so white, _it hurts so much_, and between her lapses of insanity all she can register is the most horrible empty feeling right where her heart used to be.

They give her instructions. The camera light is red and blinking and it makes her eyes throb, but the more she refuses the more they torture her, and eventually she realizes they're recording her screaming and that gets her to cooperate. If she thought the Hunger Games was a nightmare, this is infinitely worse, because no matter what world she's in she can't escape the darkness, the cold, the _oh God Finnick where are you please don't come no please please please_. It's so hard to remember the exact shade of his eyes without losing herself, and the only thing waiting for her in the depths of her mind is the sight of her brother's head rolling on the ground, and really just leaving her alone to rot in that too white cell is worse than any kind of physical torture they could possibly give her.

Eventually, they realize that, and then she really is alone. Save for the camera and its blinking red light, reading to capture the sight of her writhing on the cold, cold floor.

.oOo.

She's dying, dying, _Annie is dying_, and he feels himself slowly going mad in her place.

He's taken up knotting rope to keep himself sane, but it isn't enough anymore – no, it's never been enough, and he feels like every passing second he's losing himself more. It's so dark underground in Thirteen, like a constant, endless night, but he can't sleep, _he's never able to sleep_, because the nightmares are always there, clawing at the edge of his consciousness. Sometimes he passes out from sheer exhaustion, but he always wakes up tired, and he's scared to eat because he knows it might just come back up again, and his fingers are becoming coarse and rough and suddenly there's blood on the rope. It hurts, but he keeps going, because he's too afraid to consider the alternative.

Besides, wherever Annie is, her suffering is probably a thousand times worse.

.oOo.

He is standing in the doorway, and time seems to freeze.

He looks so worn, so broken, but the second their eyes meet his face lights up in the most brilliant smile, and for a moment the only thing she can feel is something molten exploding through her veins and the tears on her face and _oh God, oh God Finnick, you're alive, it's really you_. And then there is running and there is screaming and he is there and he is kissing her everywhere he can reach, and she's sobbing so hard she can hardly breathe but she swears she's never been so happy because, just this once, she's _her_ and he's still him, and they're together and she'll be damned if she ever lets this go. And she doesn't let it go, she fights it, because she's _determined_ to spend the rest of her life with the man she loves, and eventually the nightmares fade and he kisses her tears away and she finally seems to be in control of at least that part of her mind that lets her feel so really truly _happy_.

And then they're getting married, and life seems beautiful, because he's beautiful and he's there in front of her and he's slipping a ring on her finger and she's his and he's hers, _finally_, _finally_, _finally_.

_Finnick, Finnick, Finnick. Finnick, I love you_. Finally.

.oOo.

She is there every morning when he wakes up, and he loves it.

He feels like he could live like this forever. They're underground all the time, because she's still recovering and he's still weak, but he'd give up the sun to wake up to the sight of her smile every day. The world goes on around them, and he listens, he really does, but there are times when he wakes up and she's watching him with those full, full eyes that remind him so much of the sea and salty air, and he thinks of District 4 and raising a family and dying old there with her, and she's here and they're together and _Annie you're here you're okay you're safe here with me_. Those days, he feels like staying in bed with her and never ever leaving. Not for anything. Ever.

But eventually those days end, because he's leaving to the Capitol again, he's leaving _her_ again, and he sees the worry in her green eyes and smiles. This time he doesn't lie.

_Annie_, _Annie_, _Annie_. _Annie, I love you_. He'll come back. He promises.

.oOo.

He's promised. The last thought she has every night is that she'll wait for him forever.

.oOo.

She's waiting for him. That's the last thought he has before the lizard muttations rip him to shreds.

.oOo.

There is a strange boy on the ship, and she knows he's safe somewhere, watching them.

She keeps a picture of him in the house, and every time she looks at it, it strikes her more and more that his son is growing up exactly in his likeness. The first thing she notices is that his eyes are just like Finnick's, but as he grows up she begins to see fragments of Finnick's smile in him, of Finnick's laugh, of Finnick, of Finnick, _of Finnick_.

Finnick.

She cried at first because he was gone and because she was still there, and _no_, _no_, _no_. _No_, there was absolutely no way she could live when there were pieces of him everywhere, in her head, piercing her heart, and growing, _growing_ somewhere in her belly. He was there. Growing. Growing. _Growing._

In her belly. Their baby. Their son.

A piece of their love.

She cried again when she found out and again when he was born, but she stopped thinking about it as _Finnick is deaddeaddead_ _and I'm still hereherehere_ and more as _Finnick is hereherehere, yes, he's here in our son and his eyes and God I love him so much_. She raises their son, and too soon he grows into his father, and her heart swells with pride because he's everything they've ever wanted this beautiful piece of their love to be. Because they've survived through it all, the Hunger Games, the insanity, the war; because the world is so much brighter in the eyes of this one child; because everything they've gone through is there, _right there_, there in the beating, beating heart of their son.

And it's then that she knows that she'll never forget Finnick Odair for this. Not for as long as she lives.


End file.
